


Cantillate

by The_Duelling_Tophat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Dragon Age Prompt Generator, Gen, Other, drabble-like things, hawke-related espionage, some one-sentence stories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 16:58:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11257083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Duelling_Tophat/pseuds/The_Duelling_Tophat





	1. Jarvia/Shianni - Bringer of Bad News

  
“What.”  
  
“You heard me, Tabris,” Jarvia drawled, flicking out her switchblade with practiced ease, “It’s collection time, and I’ve come to collect.”  
  
Shianni was utterly still behind the counter, hands resting flat on either side of the cash machine as tranquil fury haemorrhaged in her brain like an oil spill. They couldn’t have waited one fucking day until after their Uncle Cy’s funeral, could they, not the gangsters, not the human creditors, not even the landlords.  
  
“Mourn the old wretch later - better to watch your own neck while you still owe us this month’s protection money,” said Jarvia disdainfully, pushing herself off the concrete pillar and swaggering over to the counter, “Pay up.”  
  
“That’s about as likely as me turning into a flying bronto and giving a shit.”  
  
Jarvia cocked her head to the side, cool indifference beginning to blister and crack.  
  
“Most people in this neighbourhood tend to avoid risking their stores burning down with them inside, Tabris.”  
  
“We’re not most people,” replied Shianni evenly, her voice a shard of flint amid the low hum of the generator, “Your partner learned that the hard way earlier. Speaking of which, bad news for you, Jarvia.”


	2. Wynne/F!Brosca - Blackmail

“What do you suppose a spirit of Faith becomes if it goes all demon-y?” muses Natia thoughtfully, chewing on her biro as she waits for her packet sniffer to pilfer further Chantry data packets.

“I’m not really sure, Nat. The more extensive spirit research will never see the light of day in public journals with current Templar policy, not south of Tevinter anyway.”

Not that she hasn’t tried to find out, of course. A Faith abomination is quite possibly the least conventional of their clients to date, and Rica would much rather know precisely how this will complicate matters. And despite her apparent trust in the spirit, Rica heard the creeping wariness in the mage’s voice as well. How much forethought ever goes into such pacts?

Rica huffs and leans back in her chair, willing the spots from her vision as she blinks. Tiredness rakes at the inside of her eyelids, but neither of them can sleep until they can be certain of tomorrow’s target. The client needs the information by the afternoon at the latest, and the Brosca sisters intend to keep their reputation for providing results.

“Suspicion, scepticism? Distrust?”

“Probably something along those lines,” says Natia, “Throw me a bag of pretzels?”

“Here.“

“Atrast mekur!”

Natia carefully peels open the packet - can’t afford to get food stuck between laptop keys when she’s so close to scoring the information they need - and preps the decryption program.


	3. Varania/Divine Justinia (Dorothea) - What’s the password?

It is five o’clock in the morning, and Varania wants to burn down at least three public monuments, throw the console into a pyre, and cry afterwards, but surrender is not on that list.

“DivineGame201, I’m going to beat you if it’s the last thing I do.”


	4. Elsa/Leandra Hawke - it’s the little things that hurt the most

Leandra remembers the girl’s mother, Josephine - she’s almost certain that she’s Josephine’s daughter, the resemblance is positively uncanny, it must be her. She watches as discreetly as she can, the girl in the sleek dark robes listing equipment off an invoice with a military precision all-too familiar to Leandra, and she struggles not to flinch when she spots the brand on the young woman’s forehead.

A few months later, she sees the name Josephine Braddock in the Chantry’s book of remembrance. She’d died in 9:32 Dragon, the 5th of Guardian. Leandra remembers that day clearly, bitterly cold as it had been. She leaves the Chantry without praying that morning.


	5. Shale/F!Brosca - piles of paperwork

“Ugh, what is it with flesh-creatures and bureaucracy? Can we simply not crush these wretches?”

Natia laughed wearily, leaning her head to rest against against rock-hewn arms at her shoulders.

“It’s not as fast as a good squishing, I’ll admit, but you’d be surprised just how utterly I can crush Lord Harlow’s forces with these,” said Natia, gesturing to sheets of vellum with a haphazard flourish of her quill, “Trust me, the look on his face when he arrives here in three weeks time? Utterly priceless.”

“I would expect nothing less of you, and I shall look forward it,” replied Shale firmly, for what doubt would there be that their warden would do as she claimed?

“Is this bit where you’re about to tell me to zek off to bed?”

“Yes, Natia.”

“I think I concur,” she replied softly, caressing the gentle pulse of lyrim in Shale’s hand. She could not hear the song that Justice purported to, but as Shale’s fingers closed over hers, that litany of tenderness was enough.


	6. Elsa/Flemeth - Conjure and Command

It hurts. There is too much and too little magic all at once, and where there was once immaculate stillness is now a river of fire that brings her blood to boil. Sweat slips over the scarred flesh above her brow, and darkness bleeds from the periphery of Elsa’s vision, her knees buckling beneath her.

“Take your time, child, for now” says Flemeth, “For soon there shall be little time to rest, and you have much to do.”


	7. Rinna - Allergies

Antiva City’s chantry predictably lay among the more prosperous districts, but the smaller chapels by Dockside suited Rinna just fine; previous missions had taught her that she was hideously allergic to the incense burned in the larger houses of worship, and she loathed the thought of being snuffed out by what was clearly the least interesting form of religious paraphernalia.

She’d always hoped her own conking out would have a little more gravitas than that, she had a Crow’s pride after all. Besides, it seemed like a dreadfully desperate and undignified way to go about one‘s exit stage left, slumped over a pew as if in one last futile prayer. She didn’t mind offering the Maker a few choice secrets and words gone unspoken, but there were few places in the city where her life felt as though it were truly her own, and Maker could wait to collect his fees.

Today, she wanted nothing more than the sanctity of her own thoughts, and the empty choir stalls of St. Rajmael’s suited Rinna just fine.


	8. Pyre

Once he is committed to the flames, she watches the embers of his pyre - prickly stubborn things that clung to the wood long after his body had passed.


	9. A list of documents intercepted by Ferelden’s Spymaster

_Heard back from the other specialist (wouldn’t trust Olfric if my life depended on it). Have enclosed her findings here. Pass them on._

* * *

 

Greetings Kalderi,

I have examined the glyphic inscriptions  as requested, and I am highly disinclined to agree with the initial research that was provided.  
To begin, it is nigh impossible that the sigils drawn in Hamitha’s Glade and Stonecross were inscribed by the same hand.

I ventured to the village of Stonecross as directed, and the glyph I found there is quite clearly the work of a novice. It appears to be imitating structural designs set forth by the earliest edition of Enchanter Aria Ferdinand’s “Glyphic Instruction For The Apprentice”, published in 7:13 Storm.  Judging by the lack of mana intergration and unsteadiness of the line-work, I would likely ascribe the glyph in Stonecross to an inexperienced mage, and one who likely received little in the way of formal training, Circle or otherwise. 

It is also much, much older than the one I found in Hamitha’s Glade; I suspect the reason it still holds any magic at all is due to the extensive lyrium mines that I have been informed lie beneath the surface. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say the Stonecross glyph was likely drawn in 8:10-8:20 Blessed and long before the specific time-frame you said you wished to investigate. I also found considerable amounts of ethereal scoria at the glyph’s location, which lead me to believe its inscriber met an unfortunate end.

Now, the second glyph you bid me see is a far different tale. 

The glyph that lies within that glade was drawn by a mage of much greater skill. The notes I was given were right on one (and only one) account - there are elements in the design that suggest Circle tutelage at some point, but the rest? Highly experimental, brilliant in its execution, and incomparable to its counter-part.  I do believe this pertains to whatever it is you seek, but this too lies outside of the temporality that was indicated. Having studied the patterns of degradation, I approximate that the Hamitha Glade glyph was drawn in 9:07 Dragon; a good seven years later than you were led to believe. 

I shall further investigate the site should you wish me to look for other signs of the second inscriber, and ask that you call me again should you uncover more of their work as I dearly wish to see more.

Yours,  
Lamia.

* * *

 

_It seems your theory might be correct. The Hawke family may have passed through Amaranthine, but the Champion wasn’t born there after all. Follow up on the lead you found and report back._


End file.
